


but we are hiding in a safer place

by afterplaidshirtdays



Category: The OC
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Healing, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterplaidshirtdays/pseuds/afterplaidshirtdays
Summary: RM, 3x06. Instead of calling back, he pays her a visit, going against previous inclinations to avoid the topic at hand."It was not your fault, okay," she says, firm, her eyes dark, pleading.





	but we are hiding in a safer place

**Author's Note:**

> Another repost from FF with minor edits.
> 
> Title comes from "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat.

It takes him all of two minutes to make up his mind and get up. The girl on the phone was scared and she called him and Ryan wants to punch his own gut for what he said to her. So he changes into a grey t-shirt he picks up off the floor (reminding himself that maybe a wifebeater signals alarm in this town), grabs his leather jacket, and slips into his favorite black boots, not bothering to tie up the laces, just slips them on and walks out of the poolhouse and into the main house.

He moves through the house and opens the front door as silent as he can manage before he hears creaks from upstairs. Ryan's relieved when it turns out to be Seth. "Hey man, where're you going?"

Ryan mumbles something about  _Marissa_  and  _help_  and  _Summer's house_ , so Seth stealthily walks down the stairs and out the front door. He climbs in the Range Rover too, wearing an untied blue robe, with red bottoms, and a Spider-Man shirt underneath.

"Nice pjs."

Seth looks down and he sighs at his appearance, looks over to Ryan. "Yeah? Well nice... damnit dude, your clothes aren't funny."

 

 

 

 

 

  

When he enter the girl's shared bedroom, he moves his feet as silently as he can. He looks to the bed in the center of the room and he sees Summer in a deep sleep, and Marissa, who's on the right. Her eyebrows are creased and the sheets have been kicked around her feet and she wears this frown on her face that doesn't match her appearance. But upon further inspection, he sees a wrinkled dress and rumpled hair and sweat all over her face and he can already tell that she's worse off than he's been thinking this entire time.

Ryan walks over to her side, stands in front of her, and looks down. She's having another dream, or nightmare, by the looks of it. He wants to make it disappear, but he doesn't want to wake her up. So he stands there and looks at her, taking her in. Shedding off his jacket and tossing it to the floor, he studies her heavy breaths and the way her hand forms a tiny fist at her side, the one that he's on. He hates seeing her like this; it's unsettling. He frowns, thinking that maybe coming here wasn't the best idea. He's been fighting what happened too and he thought that ignoring it might make everything better, but it really doesn't seem the case, especially tonight. Ryan bends down and swipes his thumb across the top of her head, taking away beads of sweat that have gathered on her brow.

She stirs slightly and he thinks waking her up might be better than what she was dreaming about anyway.

Marissa opens her eyes in a rush, and she pants slightly, looking up at what's in front of her. "Ryan?"

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips when her recognition sets in. He sets his knees on the carpet to be more comfortable, watching as her eyes slowly flutter open again after closing them.

"What're you- what're you doing here?" she asks, her eyes adjusting to the low light of the moon silhouetting his figure.

Ryan puts his hand on her frame, just above her hip, the other on the pillow by her head, lightly touching her hair. "Figured you didn't call just for me to tell you to go back to sleep."

Marissa smiles small, shaking her head, looking at him in the moonlight.

They stare at each other for a few seconds before the sheets rustle next to her, Summer jostling herself awake and slowly opening her eyes. "Atwood?"

"Yeah."

She sits up and watches the scene before her, smiling a little. "It's about time." Ryan purses his lips at her in a friendly way. He knows. "Is Cohen with you?"

"He's in the living room."

Summer gets up from the bed and leaves the room, the deafening silence left behind her making both blondes fidget.

Ryan returns his eyes to Marissa, watches her as she stares at him, still thinking about her dream and why he's come to see her. It's not even why she called him, to visit her, so she doesn't really know why he's here.

His hand moves to cover hers at her side, touching her lightly. He doesn't know how much is too much after the night she's had. Her face is sweaty and his fingertips slightly graze the top of her head, moving away stray hairs that have gotten in her face since she's turned her head towards him. "Hey."

"Hey," she returns low, her thumb moving against his palm.

"Are you- are you  _okay_?" Ryan asks her, and he regrets it the second it comes out of his mouth. Of course she's not okay.

Marissa wants to laugh. She really does. He's just asked her if she's okay and it's so  _him_  to ask because of course she's not. She wants to smile and kiss him and tell him that he can be funny too. She wants to forget that she ever called him, and thank him for coming, tell him that his coming here was what she needed. Her lips curl slightly and she thinks a chuckle is about to escape her lips, but then it's a small sob, and tears are streaming down her face and she doesn't know how to hide from him anymore. She doesn't think she can be strong enough not to show him the feelings she's been pushing away ever since the shooting, and even before that with the night he was in Miami.

Ryan swallows the gulp he didn't know had risen in his throat, seeing her cry in front of him. She hasn't done that in a while, and he knows he's the reason. He knows that she didn't want him to see her this way, and she'd been so valiant in her effort at convincing him that she was okay. He overlooked it, focused on his own demons, but he knew she'd been keeping it from him. They both do that. They both do whatever they can to hide from each other their insecurities and pain.

But he can't bear it, seeing her like this. He holds her against him, smoothing his hand underneath her neck, holding her body into his as she cries into his shoulder and neck, arms grappling at his shirt. She pulls him close, because with him, close never ever seems close enough. "Ryan..."

He pulls away from her a few inches, getting a glimpse at her face. She's wiped away some of her tears and her lip is trembling. Ryan forces her eyes to look directly into his. "I'm here, okay? I'm here."

She lets out a sob and looks out the window behind him as her chin sits on his shoulder, contemplating his implied  _always_. She suddenly feels better, not good but better, like before she was afraid that if he saw her like this, letting out her feelings, he wouldn't want to be there to offer comfort or the support he'd always represented. _I'm a mess_ , she thinks, as she leans into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, reveling in his warmth. Marissa moves her arms so they wrap around his neck and she needs him, needs him more than she's ever needed anyone. He holds her tightly, face buried in her neck. They stay like that, the silence of being with each other suddenly not deafening. Somehow, they're saying so many things in the darkness and silence that they'd never be able to convey to words. But that's them. Their flawed, yet perfect, connection that surprises them every single time.

She pulls away from him, tears wiped away, a few shadows of tears left on her face, and smiles in the darkness.

"That's my girl," he says on a breath, proudly, swiping his thumb across her cheek, making her smile just a little bit brighter. He's glad that he's been able to put that smile on her face.

Marissa brings his mouth to hers, moving her hand to the back of his neck and pulling him in. She kisses him hard and she thinks he knows from the kiss that she's thanking him. Thanking him for being there, always. Thanking him for taking care of her. Thanking him for loving her.

He stops kissing her, moving his hand through her hair, her lips moving to the corner of his mouth. Ryan's eyes move to hers and they're so close that he can feel the beat of her heart against his chest. The way she holds on to him makes him feel better, as if her holding on to him means she never wants to let him go. He doesn't even know why he feels better. Maybe because she does and her heart seems so close to his anyway. If she's feeling better, then so is he. He's kind of learned to live with the fact that they'll always be connected this way.

Ryan sets his hands on her hips and climbs on to the bed, moving across her to get to the space on the bed next to her. She giggles a little at his body falling on hers and he decides that the little sound that she makes when she giggles is his favorite. He's not sure what favorite it is, but it's a favorite.

When he settles next to her, his arm splayed across her pillow with her neck in the crook of his elbow, he inhales her smell. She smells like strawberries and sunshine, he decides.  He doesn't know what he'd do without her. He's lived through life without her before, even after he'd met her, and it's different and wrong. He doesn't know what it is about Marissa Cooper that makes him feel as if he needs her, but the feeling is strong and instinctual. Maybe it's her everything.

She rolls over so she's entirely pressed up against his side, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand holding his that goes around her. She presses her face into the fabric of his shirt and he can feel her uncoil. Ryan moves his leg over hers to get more comfortable, looking up to the ceiling to see posters of the cast of _The Valley_ and other guys he doesn't know the name of. He chuckles to himself and reminds himself to mock Seth about it later. Marissa senses his amusement and looks up as well, biting her lip as she smiles.

"Those are Sum's," she tells him lightly, in case he thought otherwise.

Ryan chuckles small as he looks down at her. "I know."

Marissa nods and plays with his fingers by her shoulder, vaguely hearing Summer and Seth downstairs. She hears someone walking on the hardwood floors and then grins wildly when she hears Seth's muffled "ow".

She looks up at the boy next to her, her chin hitting his ribcage. "Talk to me."

He plays with her hand, her knuckles loose around his. "About what?"

"About anything," she says, sleepily, curling into his side more. Her face turns fully into his cotton shirt.

"Okay," he starts. "Um, the three of us are ditching that school sleepover thing to hang out here."

Marissa looks up. "Huh? But I thought- isn't it mandatory?"

Ryan shrugs. "We don't know that."

She smiles against his chest. "My my, you and all your rule-breaking, Atwood," she chastises playfully. "You might be in one of those jumpsuits again."

"Better than you," he whispers, his hand running up and down her arm.

Marissa's smile fades and she knows she shouldn't press him, but she can't not. He knows what she's going through now. She needs to know what's bothering him, what's been eating at him all summer. "Talk to me," she repeats.

She feels him stiffen next to her and she braces herself for an argument.

He has the audacity to ask, "About what?"

She frowns, moving away from him a little bit. He misses her warmth instantly even though it's September. He misses her pressed up against him. She sits up, facing him. "You know what."

"Marissa, the Trey thing, it's complicated."

She reacts, her eyes narrowing. "It's  _complicated?_  Ryan, I know it is. I was there too."

"I know," he says, low, his eyes closed as he faces the ceiling. She sits there and stares at him, letting him take his time. She's not letting him get away from talking about this. Everything affected him too, but he needs to know by now that she's not going anywhere.

It feels like hours before he says anything, but Marissa knows it's only a minute or so. Her legs are crossed and her knees touch his side. He says his words low, slowly. "Marissa, he fucking- he fucking tried to," his voice drops to a whisper, "rape you."

She flinches and she knows he sees. She's not sure when he opened his eyes but they're open now, blazing blue and icy, staring at her intently.

"That's, yeah, he did. He  _tried_." She purses her lips and looks at the fingers twined in her lap. They're suddenly very interesting.

Ryan looks at the ceiling. "I can't believe I wasn't there. I can't believe I decided to go to fucking Miami. I could've, you never would've had to fight him off-"

She cuts him off, her heading turning up. "Are you seriously blaming yourself for that? Fuck, Ryan, that is nowhere near your fault."

"But it  _is_ ," he insists, moving his arms so they rest over his eyes.

Marissa reaches toward him, attempting to move his arms, but she should've known he wouldn't budge. She puts her hands on his wrists, trying to move them. So she holds on to his wrists as she moves her leg over his midsection, sitting over him. Her legs rest next to his chest, bent, her knees sitting softly on the bed. She tugs at his arms again. He relents, moving his arms so they rest beside her.

"It was not your fault, okay," she says, firm, her eyes dark, pleading. "It was Trey's fault. He was drunk, he snorted that coke, he tried to," Ryan winces, "do that to me."

He moves his hand to her chest, by her collarbone. She fidgets a little. "He did this to you." He puts his finger softly to an invisible scar. It's not there anymore, but he studied it days after the shooting, the memory of it strong enough to resonate.

"Yeah," Marissa says softly.

Ryan's eyes hold grief in them and she hates it. How are they ever going to get over this?

Her hand goes to cover his and she holds it close to her heart, marveling in the touch. The physical scars are gone but the area surrounding it is still sensitive. Her doctor called it psychosomatic.

"I'm sorry," she says, small, after a moment of silence.

His eyes widen. "What do  _you_  have to be sorry for?" His eyebrows are cutely scrunched together, genuinely perplexed, and she thinks it's adorable.

"I shot him."

Ryan goes silent, his hand retreating from her scar. Both of his arms sit next to her legs, not moving. His eyes stare intently at her and for once, she feels wrong, naked in front of him. Not in the literal sense, but it's out there. She told him she was sorry before, but it's different now.

She moves to get off him and that's when he stops her, his hands catching her hips, holding her softly in place. Marissa doesn't fight it, just goes back to her former position, eyes staring at him in wonder.

"You shouldn't have had to do that," he mumbles.

She smiles a little, sadly. "It was you. I had to do something."

"But-"

"No. I don't regret what I did, okay. I just, I couldn't let him hurt you even more than he did, or even- you  _know_  what he was planning on doing."

Ryan nods and runs his hand up her legs until they rest at her hips. "He was going to do to me what I was going to do to him."

"Don't say that, you wouldn't have killed him," she says, but even she knows that she doesn't sound all that convinced.

His eyes linger on her hand that's laying on his chest. He puts his hand on her elbow, his fingers curling around her arm. "Yeah, I would've," he whispers.

Marissa sighs. She leans sideways to stretch her back, her throat thick from the conversation. She knows he's telling the truth.

Her hand goes to his face and her finger swipes across his cheek. "I'm glad you didn't."

"Yeah," he lets out, thick, low, from the back of his throat.

Ryan holds her hand to his cheek, moving his lips so that they brush her wrist. She smiles.

She leans down to kiss him, her lips hard against his. He groans when her body is flush against his and he reciprocates the kiss with equal fervor, leaning up and holding on to her frame as he sits up. She moves down his body so that she sits on top of his thighs, her legs unbending and moving around his waist.

Marissa slips her tongue in his mouth and he smells like toothpaste and tastes heavenly. He pulls away, his hand in her hair, looks at her sitting on his lap and he knows she can feel that he wants this.

She bites her lip. He moves her hair behind her ear. It isn't the right time. Plus, she and Summer do share the bed.

Marissa detangles herself from him, falling against her pillows, lying down next to him, curling up to his side like she did before. She lets out a heavy sigh, going over everything they'd talked about. She smiles when she thinks it may have brought them closer, something she's always wanted.

"Thank you," he says, his hand in her hair again, resting on her shoulder, taking in the sight of her in the dark light.

She turns toward him, leaning on his side. "For what?"

Ryan smiles shyly at her. "For saving me."


End file.
